Skeletons in the Closet
by Quillscribe
Summary: Why was Ryan willing to go to such great lengths to stay out of the foster care system? There are many things the Cohens still don't know about Ryan's past, but one thing is certain: Some secrets aren't meant to be buried.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Disclaimer: **I own nothing related to The O.C. I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit.

**Author's Note:** This is my first attempt at O.C. fan fiction and will definitely be a darker story. Please feel free to review and let me know your thoughts! Thanks, and I hope you enjoy.

**Skeletons in the Closet**

**Chapter 1**

Ryan finally started coming back to the main house for more than just meals about a month after coming home from the hospital. Not that he stayed long – just an hour or so to play a video game or two with Seth - but it was better than nothing.

He'd lost weight over the summer. Seth had, too, for that matter, which really made Sandy feel like a failure, but in Ryan it seemed more pronounced, somehow. His cheekbones looked more angular; the circles under his eyes more pronounced.

Seth had always been skinny; all arms and angles, but Ryan had been the solid one – steady. Reliable. It was odd to realize how much he'd taken Ryan's calming influence on Seth for granted until it had been gone. And then his son had gone, too.

_But that's not happening this time_, Sandy thought, shaking himself out of the memory of last summer. He was making sure Ryan didn't go anywhere. The forensic evidence had cleared Ryan immediately, but the assault charges had taken a little longer. They were eventually dropped as well, considering both the extenuating circumstances regarding Marissa's near rape and the amount of narcotics the police had found in Trey's apartment.

Trey's fingerprints, smudged with Ryan's blood, were also found on the phone, which backed up Marissa's claims that he'd been about to bludgeon Ryan, and as of this morning it was looking like the charges against Marissa were about to be dropped as well. As for Trey – he wasn't getting out of jail for a long time, once he got out of the hospital. Sandy was making sure of it.

Now that he was able to talk to Kirsten daily, Sandy found himself at a loss at what to say. _I love you. I miss you. Come home. I need you._ The last thing he thought she needed to hear was to know how badly he was falling apart without her.

It hadn't stopped him telling her about what happened, though. It had taken him a while to come that decision, but in the end logic won out. Better to tell her in rehab, where she was surrounded by professional support who were undoubtedly much more equipped to help her work through it than he could have done.

Still, that was a conversation he didn't want to revisit any time soon. Kirsten had been ready to come home the moment he told her, and it had taken far more persuasion and brutal candor than Sandy had wanted to have to use, but there was no way he was willing the break the fragile line of communication he and Ryan had developed since his return from the hospital.

Ryan had been home for a week by then. The bruises around his neck had turned an angry bluish purple, and he had had to keep clearing his throat frequently. Talking, difficult on a normal day, had become nearly impossible, especially when coupled with Ryan's discomfort at how his voice sounded: it had been a constant reminder of what had happened.

So it had fallen on Sandy to explain why his wife needed to stay in Suriak; that Ryan had already felt like he'd brought all that had happened on their home; that it was 'Atwood' luck all over again, and that maybe it was time for them to let him go. With all that had transpired at Kirsten's intervention, Sandy was positive Ryan wouldn't stay through the week.

_"Better to let Seth and I get him settled," _he'd argued._ "He's devastated. He won't see Trey or talk about what happened other than to say Trey should have known. That after everything, how could his brother have done that?"_ Which led Sandy to a whole host of questions he didn't even dare say aloud.

He hated playing on Kirsten's remorse for what she'd said to Ryan to keep her at Suriak, but he did it anyway. And he was glad for it, ultimately. It actually had been the right thing to do, shockingly enough. Kirsten was sounding better day by day. The fear he'd felt at revealing his anxieties was beginning to melt away. She'd be coming home Friday, and they'd finally be a family again.

He'd been afraid of her return, oddly enough, when she first left. What if she slipped again? What if too much had happened? What if it was something he'd been doing that drove her away? But the more they'd talked, the more they were honest, the better their talks went. Just last night, as Sandy hung up the phone, he realized he hadn't had that much fun talking to his wife in a long time. He couldn't wait for her to get home. God, he missed her.

"Dearest dad, what do you see in the tea leaves? What does my future bring?" Seth asked as he breezed into the kitchen, robe billowing behind him.

Sandy felt a surge of gratitude for Seth, especially now - he knew his son's normal exuberance had been muted in the face of all that happened; yet still Seth refused to give in to the overwhelming sadness that seemed to permeate every nook of their home.

Last night he had even managed to get Ryan to stay inside after dinner and watch a few episodes of _Mystery Science Theatre 3000_ (or _MST3K_ in Seth-lingo). There were a few moments that Sandy could almost have sworn he saw a smirk or two from the blond.

He knew for certain he'd heard a soft snort from Ryan's side of the couch at one point, and that Seth had heard it too by the speed at which his son's foot began to vibrate against the coffee table.

"It's coffee, Seth. It's your mother who likes tea occasionally. New Yorkers do not drink tea," Sandy replied, warmed as always by the banter.

"Single skinny half caf double-decaffeinated hazelnut latte ring a bell?" Seth asked with a quirk of the head.

"I'll grant you that those drinks qualify as fluffy coffees, but it's still not tea," Sandy argued.

"Fluffy coffee. Remarkable imagery. I stand corrected. So what do the coffee beans say, then?"

"That it's odd you're up this early," Sandy said and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Ah, but all masterful plans require effortless execution, and in my case, it requires my presence in the kitchen before young Master Atwood arrives," Seth said as he automatically pulled Ryan's favorite cereal from the cupboard and placed it on the countertop in front of them.

"I see. This is you in Stealth Mode?" Sandy asked as he took a sip. He knew he was grinning foolishly, but he'd missed this, and it almost made his chest hurt to see his son so animated.

"Uber-Stealth."

"So what is this plan?" Sandy asked.

"Sex and suds," Seth replied blithely. Sandy spit his drink all over the newspaper.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Whoa, dad, I know we share DNA, but that's highly unhygienic!"

"Do you really want me to remind you who used to change your diapers, Mr. Unhygienic?"

"What? No!" Seth said with a disturbed look on his face and a wave of his hand.

"Because a certain missing member of this family has an album of photos reserved for that lucky lady slated to someday be Mrs. Seth Cohen, and amongst them is one of little Seth putting out a fire… With no clothes on."

"Dad!" Seth breathed, and Sandy thought he looked genuinely scandalized.

"What? That's what parents are for," Sandy said brightly. Seth's eyes narrowed.

"I happen to know for a fact that one of the topics already slated for next year's school newspaper is 'Parents: Now and Then'. Don't think I won't use those photos I found last year of you and mom at some beatnik party with something that… wait for it… looks suspiciously looks like a water bong resting comfortably - and familiarly, I might add - in your hands!"

"That's not a bong! That's a hookah pipe!"

"Whatever," Seth said, nodding his head in approval at his dad's reaction. "I think my meaning is perfectly clear."

"Morning," Ryan said as he came through the glass doors.

Sandy watched as he kept his eyes down, quietly crossing the room in sweats and socks to grab his cereal. His hand hovered for a moment at the open cupboard where his cereal should be, and Sandy could see his brows knit in confusion before he looked around, his eyes landing on Seth's beaming face as his son gently shook the box in his hand.

Sandy felt bad at how he and Seth always appeared to stop mid-conversation every time Ryan entered the room, but they couldn't seem to stop themselves. It was as if a part of them couldn't help but look each morning and see if the (_sort of_, he had to concede) carefree Ryan was beginning to return.

Ryan's eyes darted from Seth to Sandy, and Sandy had to force his face to relax. Unfortunately, he could feel his eyebrows giving him away as he watched Seth tease his foster brother. A soft smile lit Ryan's face even as he eyed Seth suspiciously.

"Should I just say no now?" Ryan asked.

"Hah," Seth said, and gestured as if stabbing himself. "You wound me with your wit."

Ryan shook his head and grabbed a coffee mug, pouring himself a cup before joining them at the kitchen island.

"The God of all Distracters requests the pleasure of your presence," Seth said as he handed the cereal box over. Ryan popped open the box and began to munch.

It pained Sandy to see Ryan reverting back to a lot of his old habits. Consistent eye contact was something it had taken over a year for Sandy to get from Ryan, but now it was as if he was back at square one. His eyes would shoot from Seth to Sandy and back again, as if gauging the temperature in the room, and only rarely did he let himself linger.

"I'm afraid to ask," Ryan said between mouthfuls. Thankfully, his voice was nearly back to normal now.

"Manhattan Beach's beaches await us, my friend," Seth announced proudly.

"What's wrong with Newport?" Sandy asked, affronted. He loved Newport's beaches.

"They do not contain women volleyball players," Seth replied.

"Yes they do," Sandy disagreed. He saw them practically every day, bless their souls.

"Not like these lovelies," Seth said, and with wide eyes and a reverent expression slid a magazine in front of Ryan, whose eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. Sandy reached out and turned the magazine towards him, whistling appreciatively as he did so.

"There's a reason why women's volleyball was the number one most watched sport at the summer Olympics," Seth said wisely. Ryan silently mouthed 'Wow'. Sandy noted it would also be televised and decided to discretely set it up to record.

"They're playing in Manhattan Beach?" Ryan asked, looking up. Eye contact at last.

"Oh yes. And I have tickets!" Seth said, flipping them on the countertop triumphantly, as if presenting the winning hand in a game of poker. Ryan blinked a couple of times, and Sandy realized he and Seth both were holding their breath. He'd not gone out much at all, except to walk along the beach, since he'd gotten back.

"Cool!" Sandy said quickly and snatched a ticket up.

"Bad Dad! Not for you! You have dad things to do today. It's the price you pay for giving up on things like curfew and having to listen to your parents," Seth said as he grabbed the ticket out of his hand.

"You mean I don't have to listen to the Nana anymore?" Sandy asked.

"Oh… Well, I wouldn't recommend that," Seth said, then regrouped. "Ah, but you don't, do you? Hence your High Priestess of WASP herself: mom."

"You have a point there," Sandy conceded, concentrating extra hard not to look at Ryan's smile directly for the superstitious fear it would go away again.

"So, shoo. Go bring home the bacon, or make the bread and butter, or whatever the food term is for doing parental, responsible things," Seth said, and waved his hands in a sweeping motion at him.

"Is Summer going to be at this celebration of scantily clad female athleticism?" Sandy asked as he put his mug in the sink and grabbed his briefcase.

"Blasphemy!" Seth cried, and Ryan laughed softly. "She's taking Marissa shopping today, and doing mysterious day spa stuff. Apparently good news is likely to be forthcoming, so no, she will not be there to share in the glory which is Rachel Wacholder."

And just like that, the tone changed. Ryan still was smiling gently, but his eyes lost their glimmer of humor, and once again he was the shell of who he used to be. Seth's enthusiasm faltered for the briefest moment in disappointment at his blunder of the reminder of all that had happened.

Surprisingly, it was Ryan, with his uncanny knack to intuitively sense people's feelings, who grabbed the magazine and turned it his way again who chose to speak up. He frowned and scratched absently at his chin.

"So is it me, or does she look a bit like Summer?" Ryan asked, and this time Sandy couldn't help himself. He wrapped an arm around Ryan's shoulders and hugged him warmly. He'd be doing a victory dance in the car on the way to work - Ryan hadn't even flinched.

Reaching out, Sandy tousled his son's hair, and left the room to Seth's cries of, "Dad! The hair!"

"So which is better? The Olympic athlete who looks like Summer, or Summer?" he could hear Ryan asking as the door closed behind him.

With briefcase still in hand, he pumped his fist down then to his side like the football players sometimes did. "Yes!" he said with heat, then quickly regained composure as he watched Rosa drive up. She was eyeing him with a puzzled frown. Sandy straightened his tie, waved a greeting, and got in the car.

Thank God Rosa was finally back. The house was falling apart without her (despite Ryan's best efforts. There was no hope for the Cohen men, apparently). He prayed Rosa's daughter didn't decide to have any more children any time soon. He'd hate to see how the house looked after a month with Kirsten home as well. One of the Cohen men would likely be killed.

Sandy smiled as he started the car. Things were finally starting to look up for them. It was about time. He turned up the music and began planning out how Friday would go. Kirsten was coming home, and maybe, after all that had happened, they'd find a way to prove to Ryan that Atwood luck wasn't real. Besides, he was a Cohen now, and in his book, that made all the difference.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: This chapter ended up being a little cheerier than I'd intended, but have no fear, it won't last for much longer. Also, as you can see, this story definitely deviates from Season 3.

There will likely be some POV changes ahead, but it's going to depend on how things play out. Any mistakes here are mine, as I've not had anyone proof this (which is bad, I know, but I'm afraid to tell my beta I've diverged to another fandom as well). Mistakes aside, I hope you enjoy.

**Author's Disclaimer**: I only wish I had input into what happens on The O.C. Alas, such is not the case. I can only admire from afar, and borrow Josh's characters for my own entertainment.

**Skeletons in the Closet **

**Chapter 2**

The day after the charges were dropped against Marissa, the Coopers skipped town. Sandy had discretely watched as Ryan quietly stood vigil in the shadows, his eyes never leaving the front entrance as movers carted off furniture from the house next door.

As Julie and Marissa packed their overnight bags in Julie's car, even Summer and Seth got to say one final good-bye. Sandy could see Marissa's eyes drift up to where Ryan stood. She'd instinctively known he was there. However, Julie had insured that Marissa was never left alone, and had made it abundantly clear that Ryan was not allowed anywhere near her daughter. In the end, all the two teenagers could do was wave to each other one last time as Julie's car sped away.

Sandy still felt sick at heart for having to witness yet one more person Ryan cared for disappearing from his life, but he also couldn't help but feel a little relieved as well. During the investigation, Julie had said a lot of harsh things about Ryan, things Sandy wasn't ready to forgive.

He'd also never tell Kirsten, but he was ridiculously pleased when he learned that Jimmy had left town to prepare the Cooper's new home, wherever it might be. While Jimmy was a decent guy in many ways, his capacity to make the wrong decision _every time_ was rather unnerving to witness… And painful. As was the torch he so obviously still carried for Kirsten. Sandy wondered if Hawaii would be too far for them to move away to? _A man can dream._

Sandy had understood and respected Julie's instinct to protect her daughter at all costs, but even once it was clear that Marissa had the DA's sympathy, Julie had still persisted in trying to find ways to get Ryan into trouble. Sadly, although Marissa was a sweet girl, she didn't need any help with that. The girl found trouble just fine on her own. In fact, with all that had happened over the last year between the Cohens and Coopers, Sandy had had to stifle the considerable urge to offer his help with carrying boxes.

"Did you give it to her?" Ryan had asked softly as Seth joined him on the driveway, still looking in the direction the Cooper's car had disappeared. Sandy had been debating about whether to say something when Seth joined his foster brother.

"Great minds think alike," Seth had replied with a sympathetic grimace, and pulled out an envelope from his pant pocket. So Ryan had asked Seth to give Marissa a letter? Smart. "She said she was sorry."

"Yeah," Ryan had said, eyes distant. "Me, too." He'd reached out and squeezed Seth's shoulder in thanks, then retreated back to the pool house.

It took Sandy a while to reassure himself that they weren't back to square one with Ryan. _Maybe it would be better if we brought him inside_, he'd thought, and not for the first time, but ultimately decided that anything like that would have to wait until Kirsten came home. He hated how easy it was for Ryan to stay completely off everyone's radars out in the pool house.

So he'd allowed Ryan's need for solitude… He'd given him time and space… But there was absolutely no way Ryan would be allowed to hide out today. Today was Friday. Kirsten came home today.

The morning sun cast the kitchen in a golden hue. He'd gone surfing much earlier than usual; too excited to sleep. The fog had burned off early, but there was still a nip in the air. He'd been invigorated but still slightly chilled as he nursed his coffee, staring absently at the pool house's closed blinds and wondering if Ryan was asleep.

"So are we talking about big bands, banners, and fireworks?" Seth asked, startling Sandy out his thoughts as his son thudded into the kitchen, trying and failing to slide across the floor in his socks. Thankfully he didn't fall.

Sandy would never tell Seth, but he was just like the Nana in the way he started conversations. Instead of opening pleasantries, Seth went right for the meat, as if the first sentence he uttered this morning was just a carry-over from what they'd been talking about the night before, and hellos, good mornings and other inane pleasantries were not meant for them.

"I don't think this is a good floor to slide on," Sandy observed with a frown. He couldn't help but get a little anxious when Seth got overly physical. His son may have joked a lot with Ryan about his lack of coordination, but there was a lot of truth in jest, and they had the doctor's bills to prove it.

"Pah. You're a pessimist," Seth replied, grabbing a bagel and taking a large bite of it.

"What? No time for cream cheese? You dishonor the bagel," Sandy said, amused as half of it was still sticking out of Seth's mouth while he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"This bagel is being eaten by the son of a New York Jew. What more could it ask for?" Seth replied between bites. Sandy pushed the Arts and Leisure section of the newspaper across the countertop and nodded towards the pool house.

"He hasn't forgotten what today is, has he?" Sandy asked. Seth blinked slowly several times before rolling his eyes.

"Riiight. Because that would be so easy for him to do, what with me in there every ten minutes asking what he thinks mom'll be like and you dropping hints every time you see him," Seth said.

"No need to be sarcastic," Sandy scolded. He was allowed to be a bit compulsive about this.

"You know I'm your son, right?" Seth asked as he sat both the coffee and bagel on the countertop next to the newspaper. "It's not my fault I'm sarcastic. It's in the genes. I come by it honestly. In fact, meet Exhibit A," he said and gave Sandy a one-armed hug, which Sandy was happy to return.

"Relax, dad. He's already up; he's just taking a shower. I checked." Sandy smiled gratefully.

"Thanks."

"No problemo. It's part of the brother/foster brother contract," Seth said, then scrunched up his face in consternation.

"What?" Sandy asked, instantly on the alert.

"I don't think he's sleeping much," Seth admitted reluctantly.

"Yeah, I've noticed the circles under his eyes, too," Sandy said. "Do you think it's time for me to step in?" he asked candidly. In most things Ryan-related, Sandy was willing to follow Seth's instincts. Seth bit his lower lip for a moment, then shook his head.

"Let's wait and see how he is with mom."

"Fair enough," Sandy replied.

"So really, what did you have in mind for today?"

"Big bands, balloon animals, jugglers, and an ice sculpture," Sandy replied. Seth groaned dramatically.

"Alright, alright," Sandy said, smiling. "How about a movie night with popcorn, take-out, and some board games?"

"Nice," Ryan commented, startling both of them.

"Good morning, Sunshine!" Seth said brightly. Ryan darted a glare his way, but there was no heat in it.

"What time does she get here?" Ryan asked Sandy, deciding to ignore Seth.

"Around one," Sandy replied.

"And she really doesn't want us to make a big deal out of it?" Seth asked. Sandy couldn't tell if Seth was disappointed or not.

"Nope. She just wants to spend some time with us." Seth nodded and pursed his lips thoughtfully. Ryan kept his head low enough that most of his face was shielded from view by his hair. Sandy sighed, and was about to say something when he heard the front door open. Seth and Ryan both looked up with wide eyes.

"That wouldn't happen to be Rosa, would it?" Seth asked. Sandy shook his head as he stood up and headed for the front door.

"I don't think so," he said as his heart began to pound in his chest, and sure enough, there stood Kirsten looking tan and healthy. Her smile was a little hesitant, though, as she watched the boys approach.

"Surprise," she said softly and met Sandy's eyes. He knew he was grinning like a fool but couldn't help himself. God she was beautiful.

"Mom!" Seth said with a big smile, immediately pulling her into a bear hug.

"Mmmmmm… I missed this. I missed you," Kirsten said, her voice muffled by Seth's shirt.

"I missed you too," Seth said, and Sandy felt his heart break a little at the emotion in his son's voice.

"Hey, Ryan," Kirsten said, and reached out a shaking hand towards him. He hesitated just the briefest moment, then was at her side in three steps, returning her hug with tentative pats of his own. Sandy pulled both of his sons into his arms as he leaned forward and reached across to give Kirsten a kiss. Seth melted happily into his parent's arms but Ryan felt stiff, as if he felt he wasn't supposed to be there.

"You're early," Sandy said, his voice tinged with guilt. He'd still planned to do a _little_ something, even though she'd explicitly said no.

There were times, such as when the money had been tight in college, that they'd do things like agree not to get each other gifts for Christmas. He'd still given her gifts anyway, and while she'd been distressed, she'd also been secretly pleased. He'd been counting on today as one of those times. _Ah well. At least I already ordered roses. _A lot of roses. He'd have to tell the boys to be sure to let Kirsten answer the door for the next couple of hours.

"I knew if I gave you too much time to think about it, you'd figure out something extra to do, which I don't want. Really," she said with raised eyebrows and a smile. "So I thought I'd just circumvent all that second guessing and catch you in your pajamas." She was looking mightily pleased with herself as she gently tugged at his pajama shirt. He squinted his eyes at her in protest. She winked.

"What? You don't want an ice sculpture?" he asked.

"I'd rather have a Hostess cupcake," Kirsten replied. Both Seth and Ryan pulled back in surprise.

"Really?" Seth asked.

"I didn't know you ate those," Ryan echoed.

"Suriak was actually a little too gourmet," she confessed, and Sandy nearly teased her when he realized she was blushing a little.

"Everything's organic, unprocessed, and completely _wholesome_. The food was terrific, don't get me wrong, and the desserts were divine, but I actually kind of missed processed foods. You know: the ones with a longer shelf-life than human beings? Weird, huh?" she asked, and as if they'd never spent any time apart, the unspoken communication he used to share with her came back effortlessly.

She managed to look nonchalant while scrutinizing both Seth and Ryan as they pulled back from the hug, but Sandy didn't miss the faint frown between her brows and the flash of concern in her eyes as she locked eyes with him. _Are they really doing okay?_ She silently asked. _Because I'm not so sure they are. _

Sandy shrugged and raised his eyebrows with a grimace in reply, then smiled warmly. _I did the best I could. I know it probably wasn't enough. But you're home now, and I missed you. _

Kirsten nodded and leaned forward to kiss Sandy more deeply, and the feel of her lips against his skin was almost enough to dissolve the last few months away.

"God I missed you," he whispered against her, and felt her smile.

"I missed you too. So did I really surprise you?" she asked quietly, pulling back to look into his face.

Sandy wasn't surprised to see that the boys had discretely left the room while he held her in his arms, grabbing Kirsten's suitcases and quickly walking by with averted eyes. In Ryan's case, he could even see a slight tinge of red on the tips of his ears as he slipped out of the room. It pained him that Seth wasn't confident enough to tease them for the open displays of affection.

"You really did," Sandy answered as he breathed in the scent of her skin and shampoo deeply. Her thin yet strong arms held him firmly. There was no hesitancy in her grip, like there had been. No reluctance.

"We scared them off," she whispered and rested her head against his chest.

"They'll get to monopolize you soon enough," he replied, kissing her hair absently.

"I'm sorry, Sandy," she whispered, and her voice cracked.

"Hey, it's alright. I'm sorry, too. Neither of us have covered ourselves in glory lately," Sandy said urgently. He wanted to be sure she was clear about this.

"It's just… I'm so embarrassed about how I behaved," she said, her forehead now pressed against his robe, hiding her face.

"Honey, do you even remember how pathetic I was in college? I have no idea why you even stuck with me." Kirsten laughed.

"You've got a point."

"We're fine. We're back together, and that's all that matters. Everything that happens from here we face together. Deal?" he asked softly.

"Deal," she replied, squeezing his ribs and taking a steadying breath.

"Now let's get you unpacked, because I can hear Seth lurking around the corner, and I don't think he'll be able to refrain for much longer."

"It took you long enough!" Seth yelled from the doorway, making them both laugh.

After so many weeks of agonizing about how the reunion would go, Sandy was amazed at how easily things began to click again, at least between the three of them. It would undoubtedly take a little longer with Ryan. A lot had happened, between Trey and the intervention, but he'd still been willing to hug Kirsten, and that said a lot.

It only took her a couple of days before she started asking the same questions he's privately been wondering for over a month now. Namely, just how deep did Trey's betrayal run? Because there was a lot that didn't seem to fit.

Neither of them had to work for the moment – he'd taken time off and she wasn't sure if she even wanted to continue with Newport Group – which left them plenty of time to bond with the boys - time he suspected Ryan would have preferred they just spend with Seth.

Seth was eating all the attention up, but with a more thoughtful air. His normally exuberant son now seemed to watch what went on around him more carefully, as if to make up for missing the signs the first time. Sandy realized that Seth was looking for things to reassure himself with. Where normally he'd tease them for their public displays of affection, lately Sandy would catch Seth watching with relief evident in his eyes when they hugged or kissed.

He'd also taken to keeping Kirsten in sight at all times, something that didn't bother her in the least. In fact, Kirsten had changed, too. She was much more physically affectionate lately. At every available opportunity, she'd brush the hair out of Ryan's face, which never ceased to startle him, or to tousle Seth's 'do', which invariably led to loud squawks of not-so-sincere protest and pleased little grins.

Thankfully Ryan didn't withdraw to the pool house once Kirsten came home, which Sandy had feared would become an issue, but whereas he'd always been quiet, now he was practically mute. He didn't seem to mind spending time with them, but only if he didn't have to participate. The moment Seth would try to include him in the banter, Ryan would quickly stand up and offer to get fruit drinks, make snacks, or something equally inane, then hastily escape.

"What would you do if your brother tried to rape me?" she asked as they got ready for bed. It was her third night home, and she'd already put on his favorite nightgown. He truthfully wasn't sure why she bothered with makeup, as she looked just as great without it… At least he thinks she went without it?

Whatever it was, no matter what time of the day or night, she looked equally put together. He wished he could say the same. He'd had his own share of sleepless nights lately, and knew he was looking a little rough around the edges.

"I'd kill him," Sandy honestly. Kirsten frowned.

"Honestly? You'd end his life? Just like that? You wouldn't try to find out what happened first? Find out why?" she asked. Sandy thinned his lips and nodded.

"You're asking about how things happened?" he prompted. She'd read a copy of the police report the night she came home, so he knew she didn't mean specifics per se. She nodded and dropped her hairbrush on the dresser to join him sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I can understand Ryan rushing down to confront him, but was Trey that out of control? I'm still having a hard time wrapping my mind around everything," she said thoughtfully. "Even with the drugs," she amended. Sandy stood up and snuck a peek out the bedroom window. The pool house was still lit up.

"Is he still awake?" she asked quietly.

"I think so."

"Something doesn't feel right, Sandy. Have you noticed?" she asked, still with a hushed voice, as if somehow Ryan could overhear. Her fingers were absently picking at the duvet even while her eyes never left Sandy.

"What if I told you I've suspected it for a while?" Sandy said, and knew he'd dropped a bombshell.

"Then I'd ask why you haven't talked to me about it yet?" she asked, eyes flinty.

"Because I wasn't sure, and there isn't anything in his records since he's been in Chino, and he moved there when he was, what, ten and a half?"

"How does a woman like Dawn manage to keep secrets like this?" Kirsten asked, shaking her head. "Frankly, it only took me a couple of meetings to see what she was about. How could Child Services not see that?"

"Because Ryan didn't want them to know," Sandy stated flatly. Kirsten put a hand to her face, clearly trying not to get upset, pressing against her eyebrows as if to stave off a headache.

"Oh."

"It's easy to forget how smart he is, isn't it? I've caught myself doing that a lot lately," Sandy confessed. "The thing I keep wondering about is how he learned to work the system? Because by the look of things, he's been doing it a _long _time."

"Why wouldn't he want to get away from that? I mean, how could he want to stay?" Kirsten asked earnestly.

"I wish I could answer that, but I can't, and the only one who can, isn't talking," Sandy said.

"I think he needs to start," Kirsten said firmly, and he immediately knew what that meant. As Seth would say, The Kirsten was on the case. Sandy smiled.

"He's going to love that," he joked, and she lightly smacked him on the arm as she stood up and parted the curtains.

"The lights are off," she stated and crossed the room to turn off their lights as well. Sandy stood up and pulled the comforter back, tossing his robe on the nearby chair.

"Have we helped?" Sandy asked in the darkness as Kirsten settled next to him.

"Of course we have! He's away from his mother and her boyfriends, and he lives with people who love him. We may not always be able to relate, but at least we care."

"It just seems like he's stuck, you know? Like he only knows how to react a certain way," Sandy tried to explain.

"I think he is, but you know what? I was, too. People can get unstuck, Sandy. We've done as much as we can, but now I think it's time to bring in professionals," she said and slid her hand in his.

"Oh boy," he breathed.

"That's right, buddy. I'm fresh from rehab and full of psychobabble," she joked and gave his hand a squeeze. "He can be so much more, Sandy. You knew right away, and you were right."

"I'm recording this conversation, you know," Sandy teased.

"Even stopped watches are right twice a day," she said evenly.

"What a burn!" he murmured as he reached out, pulling her close. She settled against his chest, facing out, sighing peacefully as she clasped both of his hands in hers.

"They say reformed addicts are always searching for that next high," she purred as she wiggled against him, making him laugh huskily.

"I've got just the endorphin high for you, Mrs. Cohen," he said as he began planting kisses against the side of her neck.

"Hmmmmm," she said, turning her head to capture his lips with hers. "Come here, you." Who was he to refuse?


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I love the feedback, and as I'm fans of your work as well, it is doubly appreciated!

**Author's Disclaimer**: O.C…. So not mine.

**Skeletons in the Closet**

**Chapter 3**

They decided to give Ryan a week more to get settled before approaching him with their plans for counseling. The family dynamics between he and the rest of the family still felt fragile, and Kirsten wanted it clear when the topic was broached that it was something she and Sandy both thought would help, and not meant as a critique.

Sandy also contacted the private investigator he'd hired to locate Dawn and directed him to start looking more into Ryan's past as well. After his discussion with Kirsten, he realized that there were still too many question marks from Ryan's childhood - too many things that had gone unreported. It was time to put names, faces and pasts to Dawn's long string of boyfriends. He only knew about AJ, although he suspected Seth might know a couple more, and was beginning to realize that at least having an idea about the players in Ryan's life could be truly helpful.

As for Dawn, he and Kirsten were of mixed minds on whether or not to tell her about what had happened. One the one hand, they both felt an obligation to let her know about her sons, yet on the other… Would telling her help anyone? Trey had expressly said he didn't want her to know, and Ryan just closed his eyes as if in pain when they'd accidentally mentioned her name in his presence.

In the end, Kirsten had voted that the investigator find out where Dawn was and what she was doing but to leave it at that, which sounded good to Sandy. What right did Dawn have to have input into her son's lives when she'd chosen to remove herself from them?

Of course, Kirsten was making sense about a lot of things lately, Sandy had to admit. His wife's initial reluctance to make direct decisions regarding Ryan was gone, leaving a mother bear of a woman fiercely committed to pulling Ryan into the Cohen family dynamic whether he was comfortable with it or not. Usually _not_.

Since Kirsten's return, there seemed to be a calmness about her he hadn't seen in a long time, and he kept finding himself torn between wanting to shelter her from his growing concerns about Ryan and allowing himself to rely on her the way he used to. He suspected she sensed his anxieties, since he often found himself caught up in surprise embraces, as if to reassure him; her arms wrapping around his waist and leaning against his back as he rinsed dishes or stared out absently at the ocean.

There was a brief break in the clouds at the moment, but the cold rain the wind had pelted against the French doors earlier left him with no inclinations to brave the surf. Granted, yesterday's waves had been incredible, but it was just smarter not to go out, particularly since if he came down with anything, Kirsten would tease him mercilessly about it.

He liked this time of the morning, when the day still felt new and full of possibilities. Of course, he'd been so ridiculously cheerful lately he had to restrain himself from random bursts of whistling. Poor Ryan had nearly jumped out of his skin the first time Sandy started doing a pretty decent rendition of _When the Saints Come Marching In_.

"You're not surfing today?" Kirsten asked as she crossed the room to join him at the counter, pulling the stool close enough that she could lean her head on his shoulder.

"It's supposed to rain off and on all day today. I figured it'd be smarter to skip it," he replied, smiling as she sipped coffee from his mug. "Hey, don't Bogart my coffee!" he teased.

"That's not all you used to Bogart," she replied slyly.

"So that's where Seth heard that. Quit planting rumors in our son's ear, beast," he said in mock indignation. She chuckled as she stood up to get a cup of her own.

"Hardly false rumors. While those days might be a bit hazy, I assure you they really happened, counselor," she said then paused and quirked her head to the side as she looked out the kitchen window.

"What is it?" Sandy asked, immediately taking note of her expression.

"Ryan's up early," she observed.

"He seems to get up earlier by the day," Sandy said with a sigh.

"That's odd," Kirsten murmured, prompting him to stand up and join her at the sink.

"What's he doing?" she asked, giving Sandy a glance, but he directed her eyes back towards the pool with a nod of his head. Ryan was walking towards the water's edge in swim trunks and a wife beater, a towel slung around his neck.

"He's going to swim in this weather?" she asked in alarm.

"The pool's heated, honey," Sandy reassured. Ryan pulled off his shirt, facing away from house, revealing a back riddled with varying lengths of pink, raised scars from when he'd fallen through the glass coffee table with Trey.

"Oh my God," Kirsten breathed, the mug slamming against the countertop loudly in the suddenly still kitchen. Thankfully she hadn't poured the coffee yet.

"The doctors said that most of the scars would fade over time," Sandy offered, but knew it was a meaningless thing to say. She'd already known how many stitches he'd gotten, but to see the damage firsthand… Ryan eased into the pool quietly rather than jumping in, and began swimming laps with only the tiniest amount of splash.

"Ryan's doctor won't let him do his normal exercise regime. Swimming is a lot gentler to his back, and seems to work out some of the stiffness that still seems to be bothering him," Sandy continued.

"He even swims quietly," Kirsten said sadly. Sandy gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

"Ah, but it's not for bad reasons; I asked him. He used to sneak into the community pool late at night with Theresa." Kirsten snorted at that.

"I like that reason better, but wish I didn't have such an active imagination," she replied, blushing and turning away to pour the coffee.

"I happen to like that imagination of yours."

"Can you two keep your minds out of the gutters for one second? Who needs sex education classes when I've got soft porn happening twenty-four seven in the kitchen? How is it I was an only child?" Seth asked dramatically as he joined them. With an impish smile he proceeded to tear apart Sandy's pile of newspaper and begin sorting through the sections he wanted.

"Who says it's _soft_ porn?" Sandy asked, causing Seth to freeze and blink at both of his parents with a glazed expression.

"Dear lord... I'm going to leave this room and try to pretend this conversation never happened. If you don't want to pay for my counseling for the next ten years, I suggest you never speak of it again," Seth said, looking traumatized, and caused Kirsten to splutter as she sipped at her drink.

Sandy fought hard to suppress a grin as Seth eyed his mother suspiciously. To divert his attention, Sandy smoothed Kirsten's hair to the side and kissed her neck, making Seth groan is if in pain and put a hand out to shield them from his view. Kirsten laughed and pulled away as their son marched outside to perch on the patio chaise and wait for Ryan to finish his laps.

"You nearly gave it away," he said as Kirsten pulled out a plate and began to slice a bagel. It wasn't just Ryan who was going to get a counselor.

"I know," she said with wide eyes and a scandalized look, then smiled and left his side to grab some cream cheese from the kitchen island, where he'd set everything out.

Sandy continued to stand at the window and watched as Seth gestured with his arms dramatically as he spoke to Ryan, who had just pulled himself out of the water. His son was clearly recounting what had happened, and the smile that played on Ryan's lips for just a moment caused Seth's eyes to light up even as he scowled, re-immersing himself in the 'indignant son' role he was currently playing.

It was fun to watch his sons like this, guessing at what Seth was saying and having the opportunity to scrutinize Ryan's reactions unobserved. When it began to drizzle, Seth's eyes narrowed and he blinked at the sky in disapproval then scampered into the pool house to keep from getting wet. Ryan remained, absently drying his hair and seemingly oblivious to the weather. As he gathered up his shirt, Ryan glanced over his shoulder and caught Sandy watching him. He raised his hand in greeting then disappeared inside before Sandy could wave back.

"Earth to Sandy?" Kirsten teased as she pulled Seth's sorted newspaper sections in front of her to read while nibbling delicately on her bagel.

"It seems like Seth's a lot less awkward lately around Ryan," he said, turning away from the wind and settling next to Kirsten.

"Now if only we could say the same," she said wistfully.

"He's starting to relax, I think. He's just skittish," Sandy replied after a moment's consideration.

"If he keeps it up, I'm going to threaten to tie him to the chair when we watch movies," Kirsten said and smiled wickedly.

"I thought that was reserved for me?"

"Sandy! That's just… Oh, don't say things like that! That's just _wrong_," she said, mortified, and Sandy laughed happily.

When the doorbell rang, Sandy didn't think anything of it. No one was expected, and the boys were playing video games while he sat at the dining room table going through some paperwork for the Newport Group. Kirsten had agreed not to do any charities or parties for a while, which allowed him the luxury of commandeering the dining room table and spreading his work out rather than making an absolute mess of his office. He smirked as he listened to Seth stomp past on the way to answer the door.

"You realize you're closer to the front door than I was?" Seth griped to his father as he walked by. The sound of the boy's paused game suddenly coming back to life caused Seth to cry out, "Dude! No way! You're supposed to wait!" Sandy was nearly positive he heard Ryan chuckle.

He listened to what sounded like men's voices in a murmured conversation, and was already standing up when Seth ran into the dining room a second later. There was nothing playful in his expression.

"There's someone here asking to see Ryan," Seth said quietly but with panicked intensity.

"Who is it?" Sandy asked, immediately alarmed.

"They feel like police," Seth replied, his whispered voice sounding constricted with anxiety. Sandy hoped the video game was drowning out his and Seth's conversation. "I thought they were done with him?" Sandy took a deep breath and put on his game face.

"They are. Don't say anything to Ryan yet," he instructed, steering his son back towards the television room while he headed towards the front door.

The two men at the front entrance looked more like feds than policemen, Sandy immediately realized, and braced for battle. _This can't be good_.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" he asked politely.

"Yes sir. I'm Agent Harris and this is Agent Cardenas from the F.B.I. We've been told Ryan Atwood currently resides here?" a tall, bulky man in a blue business suit said. Both of the agents presented their badges for scrutiny. Sandy looked them both closely, automatically memorizing the badge numbers before handing them back.

"He does," Sandy replied.

"Sir, we'd like to ask him some questions regarding an ongoing investigation."

"I'm Sandy Cohen, Ryan's legal guardian as well as his attorney. Let's talk in my office for a moment before I get him, shall we?" Sandy said, phrasing it as a question but making it a demand. Both men tucked their badges away and nodded, following Sandy inside.

As he ushered the men into his office and pulled the door closed behind him, he caught a glimpse of Seth and Ryan. They could see the front entrance clearly from where they sat on the couch, and by the look on Ryan's face, he'd already figured out something was wrong. Sandy closed the door softly behind them and took the opportunity to watch the two agents as they settled in their seats.

Agent William Harris was a tall bull of a man with broad shoulders that looked too bulky for his suit. He smelled of faint cigarette smoke and his buzzed haircut made it easy for Sandy to peg him as former military, and probably police as well. He was older, in his fifties, with graying temples and enough broken vessels around his nose to indicate he was most likely also a heavy drinker.

Agent Mathew Cardenas was younger than Sandy, with a lithe build that normally carried suits well, but at the moment looked rumpled and exhausted - as if he'd just gotten off a cross-country flight. However, there was nothing slow about him. His dark brown eyes took in Sandy's office in just a few glances, cataloging and noting the pictures, the diplomas, the art, the file cabinet (_that's not reassuring_) and finally resting on Sandy himself.

"So what can we do for you gentlemen?" Sandy began, watching as Agent Cardenas pulled out a briefcase and began to shuffle through it.

"Mr. Cohen, we have reason to believe that Mr. Atwood could have information regarding a case we're currently working on," Agent Harris began.

"What case?" Sandy asked.

"A murder investigation," Agent Harris replied.

"What murder investigation? When was this?" Sandy asked, forcing his voice to remain calm. "Ryan's been home for most of the summer."

"What we are investigating occurred long before Mr. Atwood came into your custody, Mr. Cohen," Agent Cardenas replied, and placed a folder on the desk, but gave no indication whether he could look at it yet or not.

"Could we speak to him now?" Agent Harris prompted. Sandy hated to do it, but knew he had to get him. He nodded and stood up.

"Certainly. Would you care for something to drink?" he offered.

"No, thank you," Agent Cardenas said, and Agent Harris shook his head as well.

The moment he closed his office door on the agents, Kirsten appeared from around the corner. "Sandy? What's going on? Seth came and got me."

"They're F.B.I. agents to see Ryan," he replied and nodded to Ryan, who'd stood up. He'd lost all color, and his eyes seemed to dart everywhere as if to note all the exits. He approached Sandy like a man condemned, and when Sandy put his arm around Ryan's shoulders, he realized the teenager was rigid with tension.

"They just want to ask some questions, Ryan. You aren't in any trouble," Sandy tried to reassure him.

"Okay," Ryan said so softly Sandy could barely hear him. He locked eyes with Kirsten for a second and nodded towards Seth. As he and Ryan went back into his office, Kirsten grabbed Seth and steered him towards the kitchen.

"Oh no you don't, Mr. Eavesdropper," she said, and Sandy exchanged a tight grin with Ryan as they listened to Seth protest loudly while being led away.

He automatically pulled one of the chairs beside him for Ryan to sit in, which prompted a grateful glance his way.

"Mr. Atwood?" Agent Harris began.

"Yes," Ryan replied quietly.

"My name is William Harris, and this is Mathew Cardenas. We're with the F.B.I.," the burly man began, and Sandy was pleased to note he'd dropped the 'Agent' for Ryan's sake. "We wanted you to take a look at a couple of photos and see if you recognized anyone in them. Is that alright?"

Ryan nodded jerkily. As Mathew Cardenas began placing photos in front of Ryan, Sandy realized Ryan had gone utterly still.

"Ryan?" Sandy asked softly.

"Where did you get these?" Ryan asked.

"Do you know any of the names of the people in these photos?"

"Obviously I do. I'm in them," Ryan replied, and Sandy's eyes suddenly snapped to the blond little boy sitting on the couch, barely visible from behind the group of kids hamming for the camera in a darkened living room.

He couldn't have been more than ten. God, he looked young. Even then, he seemed to be trying to be invisible - his shoulders were hunched defensively as the boy beside him, who looked to be about twelve or thirteen, pulled him nearly sideways to insure he'd show up in the picture.

"What are you investigating?" Ryan asked directly.

"We're investigating a double homicide," Harris replied.

"Was one of them one of these guys?" Ryan asked, nodding his head towards the photos. There was something to his voice that Sandy couldn't quite track. A fragility that seemed out of place with the tough front he was showing the two agents. This was rattling him bad.

"Two of them were," Cardenas said, and began pulling out another folder.

"Who?" Ryan asked, and his voice cracked.

"Ashley Laughlin and Josh Peters," Cardenas replied.

"They kept in touch with each other?" Ryan asked so softly it was nearly a whisper. He almost sounded wistful.

"No, Ryan. Their skeletons were both found buried in the basement of 1029 Willow Lane."

"No," Ryan said, and was on his feet instantly, his chair flying back and thumping against the wall behind him. His eyes were looking everywhere as he backed away but at the photos Cardenas began to place side by side on Sandy's desk facing toward Ryan.

"They've been dead over seven years, Ryan," Harris said, staring at Ryan with an intensity that unnerved Sandy.

"It's not them. They got out," Ryan protested. Sandy stood up as well and reached out to put a hand on Ryan to steady him, but Ryan startled so badly he tripped partially over the chair he'd just pushed back. As he stumbled back to his feet, he began to backed towards the door.

"They didn't, Ryan. Do you recognize any of these things? This was the jacket they found Josh wearing. This was in his back pocket," Cardenas began saying, pointing first to a jean jacket with a bunch of patches on one arm, and to a pocket comb that opened like a switchblade. "This was in her purse – they'd buried it with her," Cardenas continued, and Ryan stopped breathing entirely as his eyes widened in shock.

Sandy stared hard at the picture, trying to see what Ryan was reacting to, but nothing obvious jumped out. An old tube of Chapstick, a wallet with some money, a tiny faded green four leaf clover made out of what appeared to be felt, a mirror, and a leather address book with scratches all over it's cover.

"They made it. They got out," Ryan protested, but his eyes were bleak with despair as he backed against the door. Blindly he reached behind him for the doorknob and threw the door open, turning and running.

"Seth!" Sandy called urgently.

"Dad?" Seth asked with wide eyes. He'd never left the television room, so was on his feet the moment Ryan ran out.

"Don't let him out of your site. Here's my cell," Sandy said and threw the phone he'd luckily still had in his pocket at his son. Surprisingly, Seth caught it.

"I'll grab the keys for the Rover," Seth said, his eyes glaring at the two agents for just a second before he turned on his heel and sprinted in the direction Ryan had gone.

"I think there could have been better ways for you to do that," Sandy said angrily and slammed the door behind him as he re-entered his office. "I think it's time we had a little chat before I let you anywhere near Ryan again," he continued and sat back down expectantly. Neither agent looked apologetic, which made Sandy have to resist the urge to throw them bodily out of the house.

"Ten children lived in the group home at 1029 Willow Lane in Fresno, Mr. Cohen, from 1996 to 1998. Of those ten children, two were buried in the basement. Three others have since committed suicide. Two have died in car accidents, one of which occurred in the last year, and two have completely disappeared," Agent Cardenas said as he pulled out several more folders and slid them around to face Sandy.

"That's one hell of a mortality rate," Sandy said as a shiver ran up his back. The need to find out about Ryan's past had suddenly taken on a whole new dimension. What the hell had he gone through?

"We hunt down serial killers, Mr. Cohen, and we believe we may have finally found where it began," Agent Harris explained.

"Where what began?" Sandy loathed asking.

"Where the Madera Murderers got their start."

_Oh God. Ryan._


End file.
